


Fantasy on a Lament

by didsomeonesayventus



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: AU, Gen, Language Barrier, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4873342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didsomeonesayventus/pseuds/didsomeonesayventus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a dragon, a boy to pacify it with song, and a young man from another land who found him. AU based on the Synchronocity series of Vocaloid songs</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Long ago,  
a dragon ravaged the land.  
Many died,  
and those who survived were left with ruin.  
Men,  
Women,  
Children.  
Mercy was unknown.

After years of appealing to the gods,  
years of endless prayer,  
a woman boldly dove into the dragon’s lair  
and sang.

She sang of the sun.  
She sang of rain.  
She sang of crops and prosperity.

But most importantly she implored peace with her melody.

She died,  
singing until her last breath was drawn,  
and another was found to take her place.

From there on, men and women alike,  
brave and youthful,  
deepest bass to the richest tenor,  
sweetest alto to highest soprano,  
have taken on this savior’s name.

They are the Diva.

Their voices resound with peace,  
soothing the savage beast with their songs,  
day in,  
day out,  
at the cost of their lives.

It is an endless cycle that begins and ends with death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've lost my mind.
> 
> anyways people who know the inspiration for this probably realize I'm taking liberties with the story/setting but eh it's already an AU sooo... fuck it, tbh.


	2. Chapter 2

Sora’s hands tugged at his pants. His bare feet shuffled against the stone ground while his fingers traced over the rocky wall of this dismal cave. He looked up at the moonlight that shone through the only true source of light- a skylight that was a sheer drop for any unfortunate living thing that fell in. He’d seen all sorts of animals fall in, and it was fortunate people knew to avoid this place or else he’d see people fall to their death as well. At the very least the fauna that accidentally landed here became food. Sora closed his eyes. Unless it was people purposely goading their livestock into this dreary place as a sacrifice of sorts. Still, better animal than human.

Backing up and noting the position of the moon, Sora knew he had only an hour until dawn, and the dragon would rouse itself from slumber to listen to him sing for hours on end, never tiring of his songs even if he and others had sang them all countless times before. He took a deep breath, and started humming to warm himself up. Though the blessing of being the Diva and training from birth gave him the power to sing constantly for hours on end, he still had to make sure he treated his voice properly to keep every intonation sweeter than the honey for a flytrap. He would prefer not to know how many cracks of his voice or hoarse grating the dragon could take before those claws came to him in ways other than a disturbing caress-

“Deep breaths, Sora, deep breaths...” he murmured. He filled his lungs and emptied them. Let the air pluck at his vocal cords to their proper tuning. Sora finally started his actual singing, the small warm-up tune he had plucked from memory. Useless, meaningless syllables that only held importance in their pitch and tone. Slow, steady, a chance to spread his vocal range as he repeated it over and over in a mantra of song.

“Fru yna oui?”

Sora froze. The voice was deeper than the guardian that stood between himself, the dragon, and their freedom. The language was one he couldn’t place. This was a person... a person from the very outside world he had never seen, yet was praying to bless with his voice.

The voice spoke again, bouncing off the stone to hum in Sora’s bones, “E cyet fru yna oui? Fro yna oui cehkehk du hudrehk?”

Sora turned lifting his head to a hole he had long known of, but had long ignored. It was 5 meters up, a small tunnel that acted as a gutter and a pointless route of escape. A hope Sora had long thought false, but suddenly rekindled as true.

A young man was watching him from the small tunnel. Sora has thought there was more moonlight angled towards this stranger’s dark skin before he realized that was actually his slicked back hair- pale silver, with ribbons of it hanging over his long face with strongly carved features. Sora walked towards the stranger, squinting to catch the golden glint of this young man’s eyes.

“W-who are you?” Sora whispered, and the echo carried it to the stranger’s ears.

“Tu oui hud cbayg Al Bhed?” The stranger replied.

Sora quickly realized this situation was pointless if he presumed this man knew what he was saying. He pressed his hands to his chest, “I’m Sora.” He watched the stranger’s face screw up, crumpling like the folds of his tunic. Sora continued pointing at himself earnestly, “My... name... is... Sora.”

“Sora?” The stranger asked, “Fryd yh utt hysa. E'ja hajan raynt yhodrehk mega ‘Sora’ pavuna... Ouin luihdno ec jano utt, fedr bnaddo ouihk sah dnybbat eh y lyja cehkehk du hudrehk."

Sora shook his head at every word the stranger said, bowing it and gritting his teeth. He didn’t know this language, not at all. “Please!” Sora begged. If this man could get in, it meant he could get out, “Please, I-I don’t know what you’re saying!” He bit down on his lip a moment in thought. Suddenly words came tumbling out, “C-Can you help me get out?” He threw his hands up, “Please...!” It was a desperate, desperate cry. He just wanted out of this situation. He wanted to feel the sun, the emerald grass in his feet.

The stranger held out his own hand, but the two were miles away from touching.

Sora let his hands drop and folded them upon his chest. Freedom felt so close, but it was the tantalizing, teasing close that mocked him more than inspired.

“Fro yna oui tufh rana? Tu oui ryja vuut yht fydan? Cruimt E lymm vun ramb? Oui cuiht mega oui'na eh dnuipma...” The stranger murmured. His voice held a lilt to it, soft and pleading and confused. Sora wanted to close his eyes and imagine it was concern, but he couldn’t say when he didn’t know what was being said.

“Who are you?” Sora asked, holding his hand out again.

“Sa?” The stranger pointed at himself.

“Who are you?” Sora asked again, slower. He pointed at himself, “Sora,” and he pointed at the stranger with an imploring gaze.

“Sora,” the stranger pointed at Sora, and then himself with a firm, “Xehanort.”

Sora pointed at himself, “Sora,” and at... “Xehanort...?”

The stranger nodded eagerly, “Oac! Oac! Jano kuut, oui ihtancduut so hysa!”

“Xehanort,” Sora continued to try and explain his plight, “I want to go.” He threw his arms out, gesturing to the skylight above and hoping Xehanort would understand.

“E tuh'd ihtancdyht oui, Sora...” Xehanort shook his head.

“I want to leave!” Sora said, his voice raising. He threw his arms to the sky, “Please! I beg of you! I want to be free! I am tired of singing! Tired of being afraid! Tired of waiting for the end! Please, I just want to leave this place!”

Xehanort watched Sora for several moments of pensive silence. With each passing second Sora felt his new hope dying in his chest, the birds of freedom falling to the ground with clipped wings. 

Xehanort finally said, “Sora, E tuh'd ghuf fryd oui yna cyoehk, pid E tu ihtancdyht oui yna eh byeh. Bmayca ihtancdyht sa frah E cyo E femm dno-”

A keening screech filled the air as scales ground against stone. Sora and Xehanort’s heads whipped to the waking dragon. Sora looked at the dragon, then Xehanort, back to the dragon, back to Xehanort. He tried to pour every inch of his desire into his gaze, too scared to speak it. He then began singing. It was one of the first songs he learned, a simple melody to remind himself of his fate. It was his last attempt to explain himself masked as his song to greet the day and his draconic master:

“At the end of the artificial paradise- really deep, oh so deep at the bottom of the earth -I am fated to sing here as I close my eyes, all alone till I reach my rebirth...” He began walking away, edging himself towards the dragon while watching Xehanort, “From the past that is trapped with now nowhere to go, I will braid all the voices that follow me around, at the edge of repeating times from long ago, I surrender myself, fate abound.”

Xehanort’s hand shot out, and Sora shook his head. Not now, not when the dragon could see him. Sora gently turned away from Xehanort, continuing, “With no one within reach, I will keep on singing- I’ve been singing for eternity...” He lifted his head, knowing the glowing, golden eyes watching him with pupils that were only a small line of black held no mercy for his suffering, “Singing about the sun, singing about the rain... and the oh so gentle requiem...”

He looked for Xehanort over his shoulder, and continued his song with his own prayer.

A prayer that this stranger who couldn’t understand him would be his salvation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xehanort's speech is translatable! It's Al Bhed from FFX, my go-to "other language" for my fics.
> 
> Lyrics to Sora's song courtesy of joydreamerart on deviantart with some slight alterations.


	3. Chapter 3

Xehanort wandered back to his camp in stunned silence. In the crisp air of dawn he still heard the echoes of a voice serenading that beast in the dulcet tones of a language he didn’t speak filled with pain; a voice that wandered up mournfully from the caves of the earth and into the empty sky. He could even still see the young man that was its source: disheveled brown hair that flew up in gentle spikes, wide blue eyes that held the heavens. To complete the angelic look he was bedecked in a simple tunic and loose pants of white with a sash of gold around his waist and a choker of gold upon his neck. This boy- Sora -didn’t have shoes, but the floor of the cave he called home looked smooth enough for him to not need them.

“Sora...” Xehanort muttered the name- or at least he was 90% sure it was a name. Xehanort still couldn’t scrub off the lingering sense of pity for the boy. He sighed and began cleaning up his camp, thinking about what to do. He had intended to find his fortunes in this new, strange land, but now he had found someone who needed him much more than he needed himself. 

Half a mind said to set out for the nearest town, trying to find someone who spoke his language and telling them about Sora so a rescue party could be formed. Strength in enough numbers could surely defeat the dragon and find enough rope to climb in and out. The other half of his mind figured this would be a fruitless effort: how long would it take for him to find the nearest town? And even then a town where there was someone who understood even a smidge of Al Bhed? Would they even help a foreigner like him? Would they even believe a fanciful story of a boy trapped in a cave and singing to a dragon? His hand rubbed what few coins he had: could he even buy enough rope, or rescuers if need be? Was there even time for any of this?

No, the logical thing to do here was rescue Sora himself.

Xehanort set to gathering reeds and saplings and tall grass, testing out each material and its flexibility and weaving them into sample ropes. He spent a good couple hours making them- weaving, drying, cutting -and then another hour or two testing his weight on them. A few snapped. He tried weaving together different materials- sapling or reed cores covered in grass or even twig. Those held better, and Xehanort surmised that if this rope could hold him then it could surely hold the slightly smaller Sora.

Then came the issue of food and water. After killing a rabbit for lunch, Xehanort took the skin and made a small flask with it. He found a crystal clear stream and filled up the flask before tying it off with some leftover failed rope. A tree nearby provided apples, and Xehanort decided to wait as long as he could to pick it. He used all of his leftover rope and a few branches to make a suitable pulley to get the food and drink down to Sora.

Dusk was falling as Xehanort gathered the day’s efforts and crawled through the small tunnel back to Sora. He paused just short of the entrance, hearing Sora talking- perhaps even arguing -with another. He tried to make out as much as he could, but this language sounded only like gibberish to his ears, for now. The second voice quieted, and so did Sora. When he heard footsteps, Xehanort began setting up his pulley, and as he lowered it he heard Sora gasping.

He said some sort of question, the upper lilt of his voice made that clear enough.

“I came back with some provisions for you, Sora.” Xehanort gently explained, gesturing to his pulley. Alongside the food and water he had also put in a sample of what he planned to be the final rope to help Sora’s escape. Just to reassure Sora and show him progress.

Sora glanced at the dragon- a hulking beast coated in oily black scales and large, leathery wings, easily able to dwarf even the largest person -then scurried over to Xehanort’s basket. He grabbed the flask first, frowning and tossing it in his hands.

“Water.” Xehanort said, hoping that word was just enough for Sora to understand.

Sora said one of his own words, looking up questioningly. Xehanort cupped his hands and pantomimed drinking from a stream. Sora’s face widened with what Xehanort hoped was understanding, and he untied the flask and peered in. Sora repeated the word, alongside a few other ones but the important part was he was asking the same word.

“It’s not poisoned, I promise.” Xehanort said, gently.

Sora drank, and after wiping the liquid from his lips he smiled. He said something, and Xehanort decided to take it as thanks. Xehanort pointed at the basket, “There’s fruit!”

Sora looked at the fruit. He looked surprised, curious, as he picked up the apple. He said something, slow and measured with confession. He had a wistful smile on his face, a little sad, a little happy. Sora bit into it with relish, and he made a few small noises as he chewed. His eyes were wide and despite his full mouth he was smiling. He took another bite, eager to taste it again.

“Have you never had an apple before? You odd, odd boy...” Xehanort muttered to himself.

Sora spoke again, jubilant and thankful, and started devouring another apple.

“You’re very welcome,” Xehanort replied, “I figured it was hard to get food down there.”

Sora kept chuckling, clearly delighted with the meal. He asked something. Realizing Xehanort didn’t know what he was saying, he clarified by holding up the apple and pointing to it. Xehanort explained, “That’s an apple.” He repeated the word slower, “Apple.”

“A-Apple?” Sora replied. His voice had a thick accent to it, but at least he could handle Al Bhed easily enough for people to understand what word he was saying.

“Apple.” Xehanort said, an amused smile on his face.

Sora nodded, smiling. Xehanort paused to indulge in it. It was large and shoved his eyes into slits of bright lapis lazuli. A beautiful smile, and Xehanort’s heart melted at the sight.

He watched Sora pick up the rope. He held it up. His eyes were wide with something Xehanort couldn’t quite place as he asked him something.

“For you.” Xehanort pointed at Sora, then pantomimed someone climbing up to join him.

Sora said something, his voice panickingly quick and hopefully eager.

Xehanort lowered his hand, then raised it, “I’ll make you the rope and we can leave together.”

Sora clasped his hands in front of him, crying out with delight. The two of them flinched when the dragon stirred long enough for a strong grumble. Sora fell silent, watching the dragon with terror.

“I’ll kill that thing.” Xehanort said, “If it’s keeping you here, I’ll kill it.”

Sora looked up at Xehanort, holding up his hands and shaking his head. He pressed his finger to his lips. Sora then gently walked towards it, singing what Xehanort presumed was a lullaby. Xehanort felt himself get sleepy at the mellow tenor Sora produced and folded his arms to rest his head upon them. He closed his eyes and listened to the song he didn’t know the words to. Sora could have been singing about the apocalypse and Xehanort still would have fallen asleep.

Xehanort blinked and shook his head, realizing the song had long stopped. He looked for Sora and saw him staring expectantly at the dragon. Moonlight made his white clothes glow, the reflected light casting a small aura to the ground around him. After remaining perfectly still for a good minute, Sora finally turned around with a deep sigh.

Xehanort tilted his head, “Why do you sing to that beast?”

Sora gave a limp shrug. His furrowed brow read as confusion.

“Sing.” Xehanort sang a soft arpeggio.

Sora repeated the arpeggio- though much, much better -and asked, “Sing?”

Xehanort nodded. Sora shook his head and repeated his new word with a frown. He pantomimed yawning and sleep. Too tired to sing, apparently.

“I’ll sing you a lullaby,” Xehanort said, “that should make you feel better.”

Sora shrugged again. He watched as Xehanort took a breath and began crooning, “There goes the sun, here comes the moon, what a perfect night to sleep...” Sora giggled, smiling and nodding as Xehanort continued his song, “Rest your heavy head, rest your heavy eyes, rest your heavy heart, rest, rest, rest.”

To his surprise, Sora bounced the lullaby back, “There goes the sun, here comes the moon, what a perfect night to sleep... Rest your heavy head, rest you heavy eyes, rest your heavy heart, rest, rest, rest...”

Smiling and laughing, Sora and Xehanort sang the song together as the moon climbed into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just fyi the chapters are gonna be alternating Sora and Xeha perspectives so yeah


	4. Chapter 4

Sora watched the tunnel high above him. He knew Xehanort had left already, taking his basket with him. The “ybbma”s and water were something he was more than thankful for, but what got Sora’s heart thumping in his chest was the rope. If he understood this right, Xehanort was making him a way out.

Sora glanced back at the dragon, then dared to think it again.

Out.

Freedom.

“Sora… what ideas are stewing in that head of yours?”

Sora turned around, folding his arms, “Riku, I-I’m not thinking of anything.”

The guardian frowned. The mask over his eyes made his face expressionless and downright unreadable save the mouth that was always a perfect line and rarely a frown or smile. His hair was disheveled white, not like he would care since he could barely see.

“And to what honor do I get your visit, anyways?” Sora scoffed.

“Checking on my duties.” Riku said. He walked past Sora- boots clicking on stone, black cape billowing out in a cloud of darkness, staff held in perfect poise perpendicular to the floor -and cautiously approached the dragon. A solemn click accompanied his stop as he watched the slumbering beast breathing. Riku then turned around, perfectly on his heel with mechanical grace, “Both of them.”

Sora’s fingers tapped against his arm. He huffed a little, silent for a long time.

Riku walked up to him, “Sora, you know your role in this, as do I.”

Sora slowly looked up at Riku, glaring. It softened, “Why does this have to be the way?”

“It’s what works.” Riku replied as he began walking back to his own chambers in the cavern, “One person’s suffering is trivial compared to the whole country going to ruin.”

“Two people’s suffering.” Sora corrected him. Riku didn’t have a break either. He had been down here much longer, enlisted to watch over the dragon and the Diva to ensure things went according to plan. When the Diva died, he held the dragon at bay until the new one could fill the void again. Sora didn’t know if Riku used some sort of old or powerful magic, or used his own voice to soothe the dragon, but he knew he’d never really find out.

“Two people, or two thousand and many more?” Riku came to a stop. “That is the question we were faced with long ago and it is the question we are faced with today. We have no time or resources to search and experiment for anything better.”

Riku resumed his walk, “Sora, you know what you must do.”

“I never asked for it...!” Sora groaned, “I never asked to stay down here from birth, singing day in day out about a world I’ve never set foot in.”

Riku stopped yet again. “I didn’t ask for it either,” he said, “but it’s what’s best for everyone, Sora.”

He left with a warning, “If you’re trying to escape, forget it.”

Sora looked at his feet. 

He then silently walked over to the dragon. He watched it for a moment, then gently put his hand against the scales. They weren’t much warmer than water that had been sitting around- the byproduct of inner flame and cold blood -but it was something more comfortable than stone. Sure, he’d wake up a little scratched up and potentially almost strangled by a tail or claw, but he knew from experience it was worthwhile sleeping with the monster once or twice. The scaled flesh adjusted to Sora’s body a little more than rock, and the girth that came with it kept most of the wind out.

It wasn’t glamorous. It never had been.

Sora hummed himself to sleep, imagining the world Xehanort was going to help him see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again probably taking a lot of story liberties buttttt this is already an AU sooooooooo............  
> I'm just gonna...  
> write...


	5. Chapter 5

Xehanort had been up the whole night thinking about Sora. Why was he singing to a dragon? If he got down there why hadn’t he gotten out already? Was the dragon just perpetually in one spot and that happened to conveniently be the entrance? Hmm, if that was so it must’ve snaked around quite a bit because Xehanort carefully made note of the bearings and followed it, but there wasn’t an entrance.

“You’re missing a piece...” Xehanort sighed as he pushed back his hair. The dying embers of his fire sent little motes of red towards the star-strewn heavens, as if it was trying to find some solace in the vast, empty sky. Xehanort clicked his tongue against his teeth, “Definitely missing a piece...”

Xehanort closed his eyes, “But what is it?”

The next morning he immediately set to work with the rope. Making breakfast, as well, but predominantly the rope. He thought over the possibilities:

Was Sora willingly down there? No, he wanted out too badly.

Did he want to trade places? That seemed far too manipulative for someone like Sora, but perhaps.

Was there no way out? Had Sora fallen in and was unable to get out and had conveniently discovered the beast loved his voice? Maybe, but his clothes- simple as they were -seemed like he was someone important. 

Why the gold jewelry if he had just fallen in? Was he a prince? no, they wouldn’t let a prince fall in without knowing, nor any other aristocrat.

What if it had been planned? Yes, perhaps.

It was a puzzle, and if Xehanort loved and hated one thing it was puzzles. Especially challenging ones.

By the time he had stopped puzzling about Sora it was lunchtime. He found the hole in what was Sora’s ceiling and sat to listen to his endless music while he ate his lunch. He looked down, watching Sora sing, swaying with the rhythm of his melodies. Occasionally he saw a second person, a man with grayed hair and a black cloak, come in, only when the dragon was napping and had no need for Sora’s voice.

Sora and this man exchanged friendly words, laughing, but the conversation turned sour. Xehanort finally recognized the man’s voice as the second one he had heard yesterday, and he pieced together enough of their language to understand his name was Riku (perhaps) and he was keeping Sora there (perhaps).

As he lowered Sora’s share of proper food into the cavern, he asked, “Sora, who is Riku?”

Sora did a double take. “Riku?!” He asked, followed by a rapid-fire question Xehanort didn’t understand.

“I heard you talking with him.” Xehanort replied, holding up his hands as little puppets and mimicking a conversation, “Talking.”

Sora looked away, then turned around. He hadn’t even touched the fresh water and roasted rabbit despite looking so eager to do so, stopping long before he had a chance. He said something, but too quiet and echoing for Xehanort to make out even the syllables.

“Sora?” Xehanort called.

Sora turned around and smiled. He shook his head, chuckling about something, then sat next to Xehanort’s basket and began eating. He called up some sort of praise, or at least Xehanort took it as such with the tone of his voice.

Xehanort watched him. He knew that was a recurring thing, but when you couldn’t understand each other observation was his best means of expressing how he felt and perhaps....

perhaps it was adoration.


	6. Chapter 6

Xehanort’s silence was known to Sora, but he knew Xehanort was up there and it relieved him.

“Xeha... Xehanort?” The name was still so foreign on his tongue, “Could you... Could you ah.... what was the word...” He knew he was butchering it but... “Cehk?”

Xehanort replied, “Uv luinca,” and began singing the same song as the other day. “Drana kuac dra cih, rana lusac dra suuh, fryd y banvald hekrd du cmaab... Nacd ouin rayjo rayt, nacd oui rayjo aoac, nacd ouin rayjo raynd, nacd, nacd, nacd...”

Sora closed his eyes. Being sung to was... comforting. He joined in the next round, not caring about how loud he got and letting his voice soar-

“Sora?”

Sora stopped. He looked up at Xehanort, “R-Riku!” He pointed towards the source of the guardian's voice, “T-that’s Riku you have to-” He looked for Riku, then at the dragon, then at Xehanort while waving his arms up. “He’s gonna be pissed if he knows you’ve been seeing me!” Sora whispered.

Xehanort brought his basket up in a flash. He watched Sora with clear concern, “Sora? Sora, fryd'c fnuhk?”

Sora pressed his finger to his lips and shook his head.

“Sora what were you doing singing this late-”

Sora turned on his heel, “Riku! I-I was just... singing...”

Sora watched Riku’s brow crease, “You sing all day long, you’ve told me you’re sick of it-”

“I can’t sleep.” Sora said. He folded his arms behind him and looked down at his feet, the picture of innocence. “Dunno what else to do...”

Riku looked around. Xehanort had retreated into the shadows, but he didn’t want to leave yet. He sidled closer, not daring to even breathe as he watched Riku and Sora.

“You were singing in Al Bhed?” Riku asked Sora.

“Al Bhed? Is that what it is?” Sora asked. Xehanort didn’t know what was going on, but he got an unmistakable vibe to leave at the mention of his language, and fled. Sora chuckled, “I-I thought it was made-up nonsense I was remembering-”

“It must be a past memory. One of a Diva who came before you.” Riku said. He nodded, “Yes, I remember now, a girl...” His voice trailed off.

“Oh, y-yeah...” Sora nodded. He added, “I, uh... don’t understand it so... maybe you could teach me some?”

Riku spun his staff in one hand, watching it carefully. “Mmmm... I don’t know that much, but what is there to gain in learning even that small amount?”

Sora suggested, “Something to keep my fate off my mind? A way to make more songs? Knowledge for knowledge’s sake?”

Riku stopped spinning his staff.

Sora held his breath.

“I suppose. If it will take your mind off of wandering.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (just fyi this is a continuation of the previous chapter, I just wanted to keep Sora and Xehanort's perspectives separate)


	7. Chapter 7

Xehanort continued his rope the next day with feverish devotion. He had no way of knowing if he was found out, but if he was he didn’t have much time left. He’d gotten too far now for things to be ruined. He was running himself ragged with this but he assured himself it would be completely worth it if he could walk into town with Sora, a story, and a nice bed he could afford. The coin purse in his pockets could get a night at somewhere decent, perhaps above average. This whole escapade would be something they would laugh at, snuggled against-

He stopped himself. Xehanort paused to drink in the sensation of wind through his hair, sun on his clothes. He nodded with a firm affirmation, “Live in the present, you fool.” His stomach rumbled in perfect timing to remind himself of that. His fingers stumbled in their knotting.

Perhaps he should take care of himself first. He reluctantly put aside the rope, but shortly after grabbed it and tugged as hard as he could. The he tied it to separate branches and leaned on it. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but he had support around his middle and leaning on the rope was...

By the time Xehanort woke up, it was the middle of the night. He shivered a little, then roused himself to start a fire up. Only after a weak flame sprouted did Xehanort lapse back into sleep, as if fulfilling such a task bade him to return to his dreams.

In the darkness, a spotlight shone on Sora. 

He had his back to Xehanort, expression out of view but undeniably staring ahead at the reptilian eyes watching him like the dying coals of a fire from the blank canvas of shadow. His hair stuck out this was and that, infinite hairs softly merging into brown spikes that swayed with timid, frightened breaths. His tunic moved with the slightest of gestures as his bare feet shuffled for the right spot to stand, or perhaps they were already trying to dance, eager only out of habit.

Blood trickled to the ground.

Sora’s deep breath was as loud as thunder.

In the darkness, the boy sang a song of freedom, his voice roaring with melodious agony in Xehanort’s ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter because tbh chapters don't have to be long they just have to get their point across.


	8. Chapter 8

Sora was slow learning Al Bhed. The language’s tones were harsh and sharp on his tongue used to making sweet vibrato and gentle legato slurs, but he found a way to manage it. Riku said he sounded terrible, but terrible was better than nothing. Terrible at least meant legible in some way.

By day he sang- through his voice cracking, becoming hoarse, his eyelids playing with the edge of safety and threatening to take him under.

By evening and when the beast was asleep he learned- that “rammu” was “hello” and “E tuh'd cbayg y mud” was “I don’t speak a lot.”

By night he waited for Xehanort.

And that continued for a few days. His voice wandered to the sky above him, so close and so out of reach, and Sora dared to wonder if Xehanort had given up. Make a whole rope for some stranger? unlikely. Yet his songs and prayers for the world above became intertwined with his own hopes and desires.

A week had passed when the pain started. The stab in his chest that traveled up his throat and choked his song short with a blossom of blood. Sora shakily finished his song, watching his crimson stained hand as the bars trickled to measures, notes, then silence. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, wincing at the burning sensation from the rawness of it.

The dragon extended a claw to Sora and the boy resumed his singing with a terrified squeak. Blood fell from his hand as it frantically waved in the air to accentuate the fact that, yes, he was singing, nothing to worry about, please don’t eat or maim me.

Hours later when he could stop trying to sing past the metallic liquid dripping out of his mouth and the pain in his chest and the tightness of his throat, Sora sat down. He panted, fingers trembling against the stone ground as they tried holding him up alongside the weary weight upon his back. He raised one arm and wiped up the blood at his mouth with a rough, callous swipe.

He was too young, and he was too close. It wasn’t the end yet. He took a few more shaky breaths before gazing at the sky once more. The clouds were turning into alabaster hues: cream and gold and ivory with touches of pink and orange against lavender and periwinkle. So many times he had gazed upon it and now... He closed his eyes and sighed.

Sora covered his mouth and lowered his head towards the ground. His thoughts chased each other’s tails until he was left with only a empty ring of too many to think clearly at once. Anger kept chasing grief and hope was curled in the corner to rock back and forth.

“Sora... I’m back.”

Sora lifted his head to the tunnel far above. His lips shifted from a shallow frown to a small smile, “Xeha...!”

Xehanort poked his head out from the rock, then lowered the provision basket as usual, “Sorry...”

Sora stood and hopped over to the wall, pressing his hands to it as he smiled up at Xehanort, “H-hello!”

Xehanort stopped lowering the basket and blinked. “You... You speak Al Bhed?” He asked.

“A-a little.” Sora replied, “Small. Not much.”

“... a small... useful. And nice.” Sora blinked, his brow furrowing to try and find out just what Xehanort’s full message was. Xehanort resumed lowering his basket, smiling wide, “... then hello, Sora.”

Sora grinned. He turned around and slid down the wall. He wondered if he could let Xehanort know his clock was ticking, but instead he gulped down the sweet river water he had been given. Water down there was full of minerals and tasted chalky because of it, but what came from above was always fresh and green.

“... sing... me?” Sora wasn’t sure if Xehanort wanted them to sing together or for him to perform a solo.

“No.” Sora mumbled, “I’m tired.”

“Me too.” Xehanort agreed.

Sora tugged the rope, “Good?”

“It’s... well, Sora. You’ll be free... in... time.”

Sora curled up with a small smile. That was as good an answer as he was going to get, probably. “In time.” He repeated.

“In time. Not... long... now.” Xehanort said.

Sora felt tears in his eyelashes and blood in his mouth again.

He didn’t even know if he had short left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHHH NOOOO WHAT IS THIS
> 
> ~~(I'm gonna try and finish this soon promise)~~


	9. Chapter 9

Xehanort could scale trees with the rope he was making. He’d press his feet against the bark and lean back, suspended only with the fibre around his waist, and either weave more rope or watch the sky and think.

Surely they were close now. Very close. He could close his eyes and imagine Sora doing the opposite, blinking and stumbling into real sunlight, looking at his feet and bending down to dig his fingers into the dirt and grass. Because this was real life, a life where- while not easy -was not plagued with death at every moment or begging him to slave away until death.

He descended into darkness again, and couldn’t help but smile at Sora’s heavily accented “Hello!”

“Hello, my friend.” Xehanort replied, “We are getting closer. Almost there, I promise.”

“Riku... new words.” Sora said.

“What are they?” Xehanort asked. He paused at the uncannily fluent (but still accented) sentence that Sora spoke:

“My freedom will only bring sorrow, stranger.”

The rope of provisions slipped from Xehanort’s hands for a moment. Suddenly slack-jawed, he looked at the stone surrounding him, then craned his neck around.

“Xehanort? Wrong?” Sora’s cried.

“Fine...” Xehanort murmured, resuming giving Sora his water and food, “everything is fine.”

But Riku knew. Riku knew, and like Xehanort assumed he did not want Sora to go. This changed everything he’d have to... As Sora ate he leaned against the wall and thought about how much he could get done overnight. His mind wrapped around how fast they could get the plan sped up, occasionally punctuated by Sora’s hacking coughs.

“Xehanort?” He murmured after a time.

“I’m fine.” Xehanort murmured back.

“Fine?”

“Fine.”

He bent over, smiling down at Sora. Sora smiled up, flawless if a bit worried. He stood up and pressed his hands against the wall, “Xehanort? Soon?” Something about Sora seemed so frail, so small. His clothes were dirty, eyes were shadowed and something about him seemed ready to fall apart. His eyes were too wide, too bright.

Xehanort thought a moment.

“Tomorrow. The next day. Maybe tonight. I promise.”

...

His fingers blistered and stumbled from the knotting, knotting, knotting. Constant knotting. He thought about Sora and his eyes and his hands reaching for him even against the stone and it caused him to push through more. He laid the ropes together- one for bringing supplies to Sora and the other for their grand escape -and found satisfaction in seeing they were equal length. Well, there was extra on the escape rope so he could tie it to something.

He dashed through the cave and tied the rope to a sturdy root. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began climbing down. “Sora!” He yelled, “Sora the rope is ready!” Impatient, he slid past burning his hands and almost losing his grip. The echoes of his own voice accompanied him.

“Sora,” Xehanort felt his feet touch the ground and he spun around with no hesitation, “Sora-”

In a small, huddled lump of white on the ground, Sora was still.

Xehanort ran, “SORA!” The ground bruised his knees and yet his hands still scrambled to roll Sora over into his arms. The young man’s chest- stained with scarlet -heaved. Xehanort ran his hand over Sora’s cheek before bringing it around to hold his face up, “Sora? What is this?”

“I...” Sora croaked. He convulsed with a hacking cough, like someone had stabbed into his whole being. “... sorry. Sick.”

“Did you know?” Sora nodded. “You knew?” Xehanort demanded, “You knew you were ill?!”

Sora smiled, blood falling off his lips, “Y-yes... I... thinking...”

Xehanort lifted him upright, “Sora, we have to go.” He had to stop at Sora’s painful moan.

“C-can’t.” Sora whined. He raised his hand and clutched himself. He shook his head, eyes forced shut through a painful wince while his voice rose in pitch until it disappeared, “Can’t. No.”

“Can.” Xehanort hissed. “You can! I’ll carry you!” He attempted to lift Sora, but lurched to another halt when he yelled louder. He lowered Sora, watching him carefully. He pressed Sora’s abdomen, “Here?” A loud moan. His heart, “Here?” Another moan, just as agonized.

“Xeha...” Sora mumbled, “I can’t...” He smiled wide, tears falling and shoulders bouncing with sobs, “I can’t.”

Xehanort looked Sora over, and shook his head, “No! We’re close! The sun, the sky, the grass! Sora please we can get you a doctor!” Xehanort pressed his forehead to Sora’s, distilling his hysterics into punctuated determination, “You’ll. Be. Fine.”

Sora chuckled. Being so close allowed Xehanort to hear the wheezing beneath it. “No... I’m not...” He started crying, hiccuping, wailing. “Hurts... Hurts, hurts, hurts...”

“We’re close, just a little more...” Xehanort whispered. “Stay strong.”

“I-I don’t... want to... sing... again...” Sora blubbered. He grabbed Xehanort’s hand, speaking his own tongue now and pleading for something.

“I promise, I promise.” Xehanort agreed, “I’ll save you I promise.”

“I don’t want to sing...” Sora whispered, “Don’t let me sing again...”

He shuddered, and then he was still.

Xehanort felt time stop. He pulled away to see Sora, face closed in agony, lips, chin, neck, chest coated in red and white cloth surely permanently stained. Xehanort pulled his hand away to hold Sora’s face. The boy’s head lolled.

“And such a fate befalls the Diva.”

Xehanort’s head whirled around, watching this imposing young man stride towards him in measured grace, staff held perfectly upright in one deceivingly slack grip. The mask over his eyes made his face uncannily expressionless and his white hair was long, unkempt, and splayed across his features before descending down his back.

“Who are you?” Xehanort mumbled. Then, answering himself, he gasped, “Riku.”

“Sora told you of me.” Riku replied, “Figures he would. Plotting against me, against the world.”

“We did nothing of it!” Xehanort snapped. “Sora needed out-”

“So the world could become engulfed in flame?” Riku came to a halt, staff striking the ground with a sharp and light “THUNK!”. “So hundreds, thousands, millions of people can become snacks? Families torn apart, children’s lives cut short, the world falling to chaos at the hands of unholy death?”

Xehanort had to lean back to meet Riku’s lowered face, “H-how are you-?”

“So fluent in Al Bhed?” Riku cut Xehanort’s question short with an answer, “Well, it’s quite a history.” Riku turned on his heel, seemingly hovering if it weren’t for his cloak flying away to show his feet on the ground.

“A dragon came. This very scaled beast came and destroyed everything we had. It was a hopeless war we could never win because we could not improve amongst this endless slaughter. So we stayed as we were, outmatched, outnumbered, unable to grow stronger. Living day in day out in constant fear.”

“What does this have to do with Sora or the history of my people?” Xehanort spat.

“Ah, yes, Sora, the Diva.” Riku replied, his head tilting ever so slightly. He turned, listing all the titles Sora had once held, “The One Who Sings, The Drakon’s Songbird, The Endless Voice, The Eternal Peace.” Riku waved his staff, “Even death cannot save this soul from torment.”

“You’re talking nonsense!” Xehanort yelled, “He’s dead and yet you won’t grieve-”

Riku’s staff shot out and pressed against Xehanort’s neck, “There is no need of it when I’ll see him again in time, stolen from the crib before he knows what sunlight is.” Riku sounded bitter, his voice caustic and curt, “He dies, he is reborn, he signs, he dies and it begins again. I have known Sora for centuries, though he was not always Sora. Sometimes he is a woman, others he’s more quiet and compliant.”

Riku pulled away again and turned back around, head bowed, “Another life’s name was Roxas.” Riku waved his hand, “One of your ilk, Xion, fell in here one day. She had been so transfixed by the singing that she fell in and was almost consumed by the dragon, but Roxas sang, gave her time to get to me, to tend to her, to make sure she did not meet the same fate of so many others who have fallen in.” Riku raised his head, watching the pale periwinkle sky, “We learned her language. We welcomed her.”

Xehanort cut in, “You speak so fondly of her-”

“Xion died. Roxas- Sora- the Diva, has never been the same since.” Riku finished. “I have lived so many of their lifetimes and the Diva has never been the same since they saw Xion die. Roxas would yell and scream instead of sing. He did not last long. Aqua was next and she was struck down by claw and teeth despite the strength and beauty of her voice, despite only one flaw being made before her demise. Sora has always valued freedom over duty and now...”

Riku turned back to Xehanort, “He rejoins his kin just as early as the rest.”

Xehanort was silent. “T-the Diva reincarnates?” He asked, “Sora isn’t the first and this is not some mistake?”

“You thought you could be a hero,” Riku strode forward, “thought you could save the boy trapped down here, let him see the sun and smile at your side and, who knows, maybe you could love him as much as you love yourself.”

Xehanort flinched, bringing Sora’s body closer when Riku’s staff struck the ground once more, “You would only bring hushed, terrified whispers. ‘The Diva was freed, we’re all doomed!’ ‘The Dragon comes! The end is nigh!’ You would be no hero.”

Riku bent down and hissed, “You would bring our doom because of your selfish act.”

They glared at each other for only a moment before thunder rang. Or perhaps it was...

Riku stood and turned to leave, “You are only a hiccup in the true hero’s plan. Do tell Sora hello, if you can.”

The thunder grew louder, louder, made the ground shake and powder and debris fall from the roof. Xehanort’s anger fell, and he turned around to meet one reptilian eye burning like coals and searing his soul. The dragon growled. Claws extended from the shadows.

Song.

It was pacified with song.

“A-at the end of the artificial paradise...” He sang. It was accented with Al Bhed, off-pitch, out of tune, hesitant, more talking than singing and all around terrible, but the dragon halted. Xehanort looked at Sora, then gently began letting him go with tears in his eyes, “R-really deep, oh so deep at the bottom of the earth...” He looked at Sora. Closed eyes was customary, but he loved the sky... Xehanort bent over and gently pried the lids open, “I-I am fated to sing here as I open my eyes,” He sobbed. He couldn’t hold it back. He stood and scrambled back for the rope, “all alone till I reach my rebirth...”

Xehanort climbed for dear life through the tears. There was silence and then the roaring deafened him. Even in the safety of the dawn-lit surface above his hearing rang and whined. The roaring echoed through the countryside from the small cavern.

And yet Xehanort could only hear Sora’s words. “I don’t want to sing again....” he murmured.

...

Town was about a week’s worth of aimless wandering away. By the time he arrived Xehanort looked monstrous himself with grief. People shoved him in direction of the local tavern with either sympathy or disgust, and only the language of coin was needed to get alcohol burning down his throat.

The people whispered, “Diva” this and “Diva” that.

“Sora!” Xehanort yelled every time, “His name was SORA! Y-you didn’t even...” He’d drink, and drink some more, “You didn’t even know his name. Who he was....” There was no need to salt his drink that night. No one knew his words but listened anyways with sympathetic pats and free drinks.

And Xehanort went to bed, stumbling, raving, screaming into his pillow and stone-hard drunk.

He whined out Sora’s song again, an elegy, a dirge, a fantasy on a lament, praying it to the roof that he would forget this heartache in the morning. Forget that he ever met Sora.

And after the black depths of passing out, he did.

But ever since his dreams were plagued with a boy with soft brown hair and dazzling blue eyes singing to him and only him, whenever he wished, and always out of his grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we are DONE.
> 
> probably rushed but done.
> 
> good god finally I've been so blocked.
> 
> I'm so tired it's 11:22 PM.


End file.
